Project Ledger V: Gathering driftwood and moss along Lake Huron, and discovering where future projects begin. The long holiday weekend had finally come to an end. The crowds thinned out. The seasonal traffic eased. The boats became less frequent. By Monday afternoon, Lake Huron began returning to its normal rhythm.
Project Ledger IV: A reflection on gardening, stewardship, and the responsibility of creating a place where life can flourish. Gardening was never meant to be one of my passions. I don't romanticize hauling mulch, trimming overgrowth, dragging hoses, or spending entire Saturdays battling weeds that appear to have
Field Note V: An afternoon of wandering, crate digging, and reminder that life doesn't always need to be optimized. My wife had a massage appointment and the kids were at grandma's, which usually creates a rare kind of opportunity. It is not exactly freedom, but rather
Project Ledger III: A return to drawing as a simple, quiet practice rooted in creativity, restraint, and presence. I used to draw all the time. There was no structure or intention behind it, just something I could do better than most kids around me without thinking about it (note: not
Project Ledger II: An audio system shaped over time, now shifting toward creation. It started in a bedroom in junior high, but the roots go back a little further. Before any equipment, there was hip hop; not just the music, but the culture around it. The version I connected with
Field Note IV: A week at Nobu Los Cabos, where nothing happened and that was the point. There was no plan for this trip beyond one thing: do nothing. This wasn't the version of nothing that still carries a quiet checklist in the background or the kind where
Edition VII: When progress stalls, something else begins. For the past couple weeks, nothing visibly moved forward. There were no major updates in the basement, no new builds taking shape and no products being refined. There was no clear checkpoints that would signal progress if someone were looking from the
Edition VI: On optimization, discipline, and choosing what not to chase. There is a version of self-improvement that brings clarity into your life, and there is another version that quietly introduces pressure. Most people don’t notice when they’ve crossed from one into the other. I’ve spent enough
Edition V: The 'Ikigai' beneath Kaizoku Path. Over the past year, I’ve noticed myself being pulled toward a curious constellation of interests: creating and collecting music, mushroom cultivation and adaptogens, reptiles and bioactive enclosures, bread baking, thoughtfully designed spaces, alpine skiing, boxing exercises, and even the early
Field Notes III: A visit to a private reptile zoo and the ideas it sparked about building environments. I have been coming here long enough to remember when it was just reptiles. Before the expansion into fish at LegaSea, there were just rows of enclosures, heat lamps, substrate, and animals
Field Notes II: On raising kids through ritual, culture, and the long table. There’s a version of parenting built around optimization (tight schedules, stacked activities, and measured outcomes), but that isn’t really us. We’re building something different. It wasn’t intentional at first, but it’s obvious
Edition IV: What Miyazaki, Cowboy Bebop, and anime worlds taught me about presence and place. I didn’t arrive at anime through film school or deep fandom. Like a lot of kids growing up in the late 90s and early 2000s, it started with whatever happened to be on. After